


Dead of Night (When Strangers Roam)

by poisontaster



Series: Sateda Dean [5]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Ficlet, Gen, Past Relationship(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rival Relationship, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-01
Updated: 2007-10-01
Packaged: 2018-05-01 08:51:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5199716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisontaster/pseuds/poisontaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and John have a conversation. It goes about like you'd expect. Not long after Into The Looking Glass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dead of Night (When Strangers Roam)

Dean is alone in the salle—gymnasium—and then he is not.

He doesn't mean to turn so sharply or so fast, he doesn't mean to leave his practice staff in the guard position, but he doesn't do well at being startled. The wood smacks hard into the hand that Sheppard throws up. The Colonel winces, but he doesn't let go.

Dean surrenders the staff and steps back immediately, afraid of himself and his reactions. Sheppard doesn't make any move to hold onto the staff either and it clatters to the floor between them. "Sorry," he mutters, eyes down. His feet are dirty and his big toenail is splitting.

"No need to be sorry." Sheppard's voice sounds easy and when Dean peeks up through his eyelashes, Sheppard's body language hasn't changed, hands hooked harmlessly through his belt. "I'm the one that snuck up on you."

Dean shrugs. "It's late. I didn't think anyone would be here. I can go." He takes a step sideways and tries to move past.

Sheppard doesn't try to block him, but he pitches his voice at command level when he says, "You don't have to go."

Dean stops, hands falling open and limp at his sides.

Sheppard sighs. "Dean."

"What do you want from me?" Dean demands, heat streaking through him in alternate waves. "I… What the hell do you want?"

Sheppard's face twists. "I don't want anything, Dean. I just… I'm just trying to help."

Dean's fingers curl in and the nails dig into his palms. "Help what? Help me? Or help yourself?"

"I don't even know what that means."

"You do. You know. You want him." Dean is careful to keep the same amount of distance between him and Sheppard, shifting from foot to foot. It's hard to be still, to just stand in one place. He doesn't need this. He doesn't want this. He came here—the gym—to try and fight out some of this horrible restlessness, to exhaust himself until he can be sure that he won't hurt anyone.

There's no need for Dean to explain what 'him' he means; he sees Sheppard's pupil's shrink in acknowledgment. His body sags a little on his spine, making him look shorter, more harmless. Dean takes another step away. "I… I did," Sheppard admits. "But it doesn't matter."

How can he say that? How can he mean it? Dean saw the look in Sheppard's eyes when he looks in Ronon. No one wants that much, that badly, and then just…walks away. What is _wrong_ with these Lanteans?


End file.
